Tactics
by Claraon
Summary: How to relax a pissed President. AR. Slight spoilers for season 4.


"Frak!"

_Okay_. Not exactly the greeting Bill is expecting on entering his quarters.

The way it is muttered though, seems to indicate that it isn't directed at him. At least not directly. Laura is sitting at his desk (how well she fits there), face in hands, still dressed but without her wig. One shoe is standing in the middle of the room, the other is nowhere to be seen. She hasn't even acknowledged his entrance. _Ok, Bill, be nice, positive, and most importantly oblivious to her mood, and you might have a chance to be spared._

Unlike that piece of paper she just sent flying across the room.

"Laura?"

"Bill! You're back early."

"It's passed 2200 hours." She glances at the clock, sighs, goes back to her paperwork. _Very smooth, Bill._

Still standing in the middle of the room, he considers his option. Obviously, asking how her day isn't one of them. Not, he knows, when the only answer he'll get is an annoyed "Fine." Instead, he walks to the private section of the cabin and removes his boots. Coming back, he grabs a book from the shelf and sits on the couch. Reading is not something he can do without her anymore. With some luck, she'll get the hint, stop working and come lie down by his side.

He raises his eyes, and is greeted by the "How dare you relax when I'm working" glare. Very close to the "I have an airlock and I won't hesitate to use it." one, that is sure to follow if he doesn't change tactics right now. Going straight in won't work, but he can try a more furtive approach.

He moves to pour two drinks. Of water. Alcohol doesn't mix well with Diloxin. Laura is still grumbling, scribbling, erasing, moving papers around actively. The sight is almost a relief. It means that she actually has enough energy to get angry. It means she's getting better. He chuckles. _Keep the chuckle internal if you don't want the anger to be pointed in your direction._ He must be one of few men who actually rejoice at seeing their... girlfriend? lover? wife?... mad. Besides, she shouldn't be wasting this new found energy like this. Luckily, he's here to help her put it to better use. He puts one glass beside her pile of paperwork, and starts drinking his own, progressively making his way around the desk.

"You're sneaking, Bill." He knows there's no point in denying it.

Basic war tactic. Never engage blindly in a fight. Assess the situation first, learn the enemy, spot strengths and weaknesses.

She absently raises her hand, stops mid-motion. It's not the first time he sees her try to run a hand through her hair. This fiery hair which curled or lay straight depending on her mood, which bounced elegantly around her face; a dance of its own at every one of her moves. He used to focus on the hair to avoid being distracted by anything else. He doesn't need to now. Has her unspoken permission to let his eyes wander all the way down and up again. And never misses an occasion to take advantage of it.

He finds the perfect target - her tensed shoulders. Now is the time for attack. He leans forward to set his glass on the desk, the tip of his free fingers touching the nape of her neck, hesitantly. No shrugging off. No explosion of "For frak's sake, Bill! Some people actually have to get some work done in this fleet!". He is unfortunately familiar with such a statement. And every possible variation of it.

His two hands are now at work, tracing circles, thumbs slowly untying the knots of nerves. Here Gaius Baltar, there food supplies. Her pen and glasses are on the desk and she's leaning back. He can even hear a half-repressed moan. He leans forward, his lips caressing her ear.

"You know what I like about your new hairstyle?"

"You mean, lack thereof," she replies bitterly.

"You know what I like about your new hairstyle, Laura?" It's risky, he knows, but he can feel the tension ease under his fingers. Her sigh isn't one of frustration.

"No Bill, tell me, what do you like about my new hairstyle ?" _Target hit._

"'Is how much quicker you are under the shower."

She giggles. He's glad he can still surprise her.

"And less time washing, drying, combing," he continues, "is more time for... other things".

He feels her head move under his lips, which are soon met by hers. She twitches and her hands find his neck, motionning for him to move around the chair and fully face her.

"With all that time and water saved," he adds between kisses, "I think we can even afford an extra shower." She doesn't respond, though her standing up and pushing him against the desk seems to indicate she agrees. The tongue sliding across his jawline is a good sign as well. So good that it incites him to add,

"Too bad it's only temporary."

She pulls back. _Because you're going to beat this, Laura. I'm your backup and I won't have it any other way._

_  
_The sparkle in her eyes tells him she understands.

"We better get the most of it while we can, then."


End file.
